


The Heartless

by zaidnovi



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Big Brother Mycroft, Gen, Holmes Brothers, Holmes Brothers' Childhood, Protective Mycroft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-04-01 08:03:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4012042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zaidnovi/pseuds/zaidnovi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Because the day I became yours, you became mine."<br/>Nothing but, a meager attempt of peeking in to Mycroft Holmes's mind palace.<br/>Series written based solely on Mycroft's point of view of daily life events. Now, although Johnlock may make an appearance, incest will not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Heaven Tonight

**Heaven Tonight**

 

* * *

 

"I hold your hand in mine,

I hold your hand, and you are so lonely, oh so lonely…

Trying to find the heart, you hide,

Trying to find the heart you hide in vain…"

HIM

 

The commotion of the household had begun earlier than other days; this was out of ordinary especially in such a cold morning as this one. Almost seven-year-old Mycroft woke up to the rushing of steps towards his mother bedroom. He knew it was time; his brother was coming and as every Holmes could not pick the worst time, their father was not home, the hospital too far, and the nearest doctor would not arrive until far in the afternoon. Therefore, his brother would have to wait, or worse. He knew at this point was impossible to see his mother, so instead of his usual morning visit to mommy's bedroom he went downstairs to have breakfast.

"That brother of yours, sure is a Holmes, no patience what so ever." - The old cook stated without even looking at him, he sometimes wonders if she had eyes on her back since he never seem to pass unnoticed by her. –"But is fine better during the day than the night."

Mycroft sat in silence drinking his milk while the cook kept going on about his future brother. Mommy had always told him that silence was golden and he should learn to hold his tongue before making a fool of himself by declaring assumptions. He rose from the table and decide to go wait in the library, the cook changes his conversation and decided to enlighten him as why would be unwise for him to go outside as if he wanted to.

Unlike others would believe he had learned from his father that time spent in a library was time well spent. His father had tried to makes of his son an outdoorsman such as other children of his generation, but soon found out the opposite; while Mycroft could survive a riding lesson this does not necessary meant he enjoyed it, and to his father pride there was nothing sadder than his first-born face on top of a horse. Thus, he had decided to play along and announced that "the sooner Mycroft learned to ride, the sooner he would never have to sit on a horse", Mycroft learned in less than a day, his father obviously would brag about it the other way around.

They managed to get the doctor before midday, and the commotion died a bit. The household got on with his chores, and he was allowed a small pick of his mother, only to be kicked out by one of the oldest maids.

"Would mother be alright?" - The doctor was resting against the window in the hall. He seemed to jump at the sound of Mycroft's voice.

"What makes you think otherwise?" –The doctor answer in a soft voice still not looking at him.

"I have read, that even in normal circumstances births not always go well. Mother had told me she was due by the end of January, which is why father took the trip."

"I see… Indeed, this is not a normal birth, but we will try to make the best of it, and I assure your mother is no danger, neither is your brother."

He took lunch in the library, and got an earful of the cook for it; by six in the afternoon he was already done with his second book of his list for the day, and had decided to start The Divine Comedy of Dante, when loud screaming of crying child broke the silence of the house. One of the maids came looking for him, his mother wishes to see him. He enters the room following the maid, the doctor was still in the room caring for his mother, she looked exhausted, the baby was still crying his lungs out while they tried to clean him.

"Come My, is time for you to meet your brother." –his mother motion when they put the baby on her arms. –"Calm down Sherlock, you are with mommy now."

Mycroft leaned to take a good look at his brother. Sherlock was wrapped in a cotton blanket; Mycroft could only see his face and one hand that seem wrestles like the rest of the body. A soft mess of dark hair on his head, surely he would have mommy's hair, his eyes were closed; however, his mouth insisted on try talking or, at least, make himself noticeable to everyone in the room. –"My, this is your brother Sherlock. He was impatient to meet us all." –his mother smiled at him and Mycroft wonders if that would be the last time he will see her smile only at him. –"What do you think of him?"

"He is too little to say, but sure he is noisy." –He stated while Sherlock started to calm down. –"Are you alright, mommy?"

"Mommy is just tired, I am sorry for you to worry, would you like to hold him?" –she insisted Mycroft nodded allowing her to put the baby on his arms. Sherlock fussed a bit at the loss of his mother; and just when Mycroft was beginning to lose hope he settles down, getting comfortable on Mycroft's arms. –"There Sherlock, this is your brother." -Mycroft turned to look at his mother; the resemblance was unkind, only the nose was his father's. Turning back his attention to his brother, he found himself being the center of attention. His eyes were like many babies deep blue, but the awareness was there. Sherlock seems to be studying him, making sure he was worthy of his trust, and to this Mycroft could only smile to himself. He was indeed his brother. –"Now My, you are a big brother." –Having finished his study Sherlock had fallen at sleep on his arms. The maid came to put him next to his sleeping mother, and Mycroft was once more taken out of the room by the doctor.

"Is the big brother more relax now? Your father has call. He will be arriving tomorrow morning; I will stay overnight just in case I am needed. I look forward to see you at dinner Mycroft." –Mycroft nodded in response while the doctor enter the room.


	2. Normal in the outside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Because the day I became yours, you became mine."  
> Nothing but, a meager attempt of peeking in to Mycroft Holmes's mind palace.

 

**Normal In The outside**

 

* * *

 

 

"Do you really want to know what is inside?

I feel the weight of your stare but you do not see what is there

All you know is what you see but you do not know what is inside of me." Hypnogaja

 

The piano was being stubborn, with a sigh, he got up and look out of the window. Mother had not come down from her room after the visit from the Doctor; they were hiding stuff from them, mostly him, since Sherlock seem so oblivious when most needed. The Doctor that had seen Sherlock last week had given them an unacceptable diagnose according to Mommy, so she made an appointment with another, putting father disapproval aside. Earlier that day, the boys had waited outside the doctor's office while their parents talked in private, having nothing to do Mycroft took out his notebook and started homework.

"I am bored." -Moaned Sherlock.

"Well, I am busy." - Sherlock gave a heavy sigh –"Find something to occupy yourself with." –Few minutes of silence. Another heavy sigh; followed by the taping of Sherlock's shoes against each other. - "If you don't quit that, they really gonna think you are crazy and keep you here for good… Which now that I think about it would be good for my studies." –Sherlock gave him the "you would not dare look."

"But I bored!" -He replied with a huff crossing his arms.-"Do anything about it."

"Something." - Sherlock turns to look at him puzzled, while Mycroft started to look for something on his bag, taking out one of the heaviest books that turned out to be a dictionary, he shoved it on to Sherlock's lap.-"o something about it." Since it is obvious you don't know how to speak properly yet, you have lost the right to talk to me until you finish that book or I say otherwise."

Father had given Mycroft a quizzical look about the book but followed with a pat on his head. The ride home had been at least peaceful; Sherlock had his head buried in the book while Mycroft's only though was why he had not thought about this earlier

Once home, mother had taken refuge in her room claiming being car sick and needed to rest, father was on the kitchen fixing dinner. Gratefully, Sherlock was nowhere to be seen. Asperger's syndrome according to the first doctor; only to be reaffirmed by the second. Mycroft had known all along, there was something with Sherlock but that did not mean it was something wrong; father comes out of the kitchen to announce dinner would be ready in five, and to tell mother and Sherlock.

"She is sleeping." Announced Sherlock just when he was about to knock his mother's door. He had long ago managed to keep up with the way that Mycroft talked with his eyebrows. –"I just checked."

"You should wash up, dinner is almost ready." –He turned to leave only to notice Sherlock nodding, for once not fighting, which was odd. –"Something you want to say."

"I finished the book." –Admitted Sherlock in a rather coy way, only to be rewarded with a doubtful look by Mycroft. –"I did! You can test me if you want."

"Fine, we would do it after dinner."

… …

Mycroft stood outside the school doors waiting for Sherlock, his eyes scanning softly the grounds while parents and kids made their way home, with a huff of impatience he checked his watch for the second time, Sherlock was almost never late, unless… With another sigh, he made his way inside. He found Sherlock sitting across another kid outside the office door. His teacher was coming out and stops at the sight of Mycroft. By the state of Sherlock's clothes and face, he knew his parent would be arriving soon; he sat next to his brother giving him a disapproval look.

The parents of the other kid came followed by the Holmes, a small discussion could be heard inside until the other kid's parents stormed out. The discussion grew quieter, marked by the higher tones of a mother.

"It was not my fault." – Sherlock stated while looking across the room.

"Then whose fault was it? He is older than you and according to him, you provoke him."

"I was passing by carrying my food and he made me stumble. So, I only let him know since it was his fault he should, at least, pay for my food." –Sherlock looked at the floor. –"To this, he stated I should eat it from the floor so it would not go to waste because that is how freaks eat all the time. So I hit him."

Mycroft let out a sigh; he did not know he was holding, he knew the scene very good, but now that his brother was involved it was a very different feeling. Slowly he patted Sherlock head in a soft way.

"Next time something like that happens, you do not get yourself in trouble. You wait for me, understood."

"I do not need you to fight my battles!" –Sherlock exclaimed all the sudden get away of Mycroft's touch. –"I can do it on my own."

Mycroft was about to reply when his parents came out, Sherlock will only be attending school for the next week after that mother will be in charge of his studies until he was old enough attend Mycroft's. The Ride home was tense; Sherlock was grounded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please enjoy your stay, and happily indulge yourself with some Turkish delight on your way out. Thank you again for taking the time to read this nonsense of mine.


	3. Love the Hardest Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Because the day I became yours, you became mine."  
> Nothing but, a meager attempt of peeking in to Mycroft Holmes's mind palace.

**Love the Hardest Way**

 

* * *

 

 

 

"Love is the devil counting teardrops in the rain  
For what is worth, I do not want to see you hurt…  
More than you have to." HIM

 

Mummy had been making a big fuzz over this new friend of Sherlock’s, apparently the boy was about the same age of Sherlock and although they were not in the same classes they have manage to create some kind of connection, that was in mummy’s choice of words. Friends, friends, and even playmates were always a difficult task for the Holmes’s boys; while Mycroft would only try to pick a person up it fit to his needs. Sherlock will do exactly the opposite; pick a person and dissemble it piece by piece and once the mystery of how they work was out, he would get bored and toss them aside. Mycroft had know it exactly his life plan since he was six his “friends” were all picked with precision for their role in his future. Sherlock was a bit more sentimental, Mycroft will always blame Mummy for this, he will not care for whom they were or their future roles, more like picking stray cats because they were cute.  
By the time he got to meet Victor, their relationship was strong, when Mycroft interrogated Sherlock about the matter, he stated that they were nothing more than friends, of course, Mycroft did not believe a word that came out of his brother's mouth. His theory probed true after a few months, Victor left for Australia to pursue his own interests leaving the wreckage of Sherlock behind, after that Mycroft made sure Sherlock knew just how troublesome relations were.  
...  
“Sherlock called me today,”- Mycroft registered the worried on her neutral tone of voice. What had that boy done now was his first though.-“He said he found a flat, and when I offer to help him get installed he said he had also found a roommate. Anything new I should know about Mike?”  
“I knew about the flat, but nothing about the roommate… I will look into it if that makes you happy.” –He heard her relax, giving a small sigh.  
“Just do not do anything that will make feel uncomfortable, you know how he feels about his personal space.” –Oh, Mycroft knew about his personal space almost all the fights had started over that dialogue. –“Is just that that boy makes me worry. I believe it would be best if he lives with you, but we know that is impossible…” –The exact words from Sherlock had been: The only way I am going to live with you is that you cremate my dead body and keep the ashes on top of your fireplace, and still then I will hunt you for it.”  
“Don’t worry mother I will be subtle with it.”- Yeah as if Mycroft Holmes could be subtle about anything.- “How is father?”  
“He is mostly recovered from his flu, but he is still losing everything, just yesterday he had me looking for his glasses for almost half an hour only to realize he had them in his pocket.”- He listens to his mother rant, with a bored face, he loves them there is no doubt on that, but they can get so tiresome some times. And then there is Sherlock, his mother had promise his stubbornness would go away when he grew up, well she was wrong, He barely registers her going on about plans for next Christmas, is still months away and his mind starts to plan a way to get out of it. He states in a fake apologetic way that he is needed somewhere, and hugs up. Now, back to business, what kind of friend has Sherlock manage to make, he just hopes is not an addict or he would have to disappear in the worst way.  
He lets himself breath, before making the call to his assistant to start gather the information. He stares at the awkward photo mother had taken when they were children, his fake smile plastered all over his face, only to be outsmarted by Sherlock's dirty shirt and upset pout. Sherlock face is also a mess looking closely you can make out the leaves of the willow caught on Sherlock's curls. It had taken almost an hour to me get him come down from the tree. The stubbornness of Sherlock not wanting to pose for a picture, was only overcome by Mother's wanting to have a picture of the two of them, before Mycroft leaving. Mother always wins. Sherlock pout was replaced by a big smile after finding out the gift Mycroft had convinced father to get for him, Red beard, it was the last time Mycroft remembers his brother being a true happy kid, he keeps the picture as reminder that he is the keeper of his brother, he know what is best for Sherlock even when Sherlock doesn't know. He decided to approach the new member of Sherlock's circle before consulting his brother, form an idea of the person before Sherlock can from a strong attachment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please enjoy your stay, and happily indulge yourself with some Turkish delight on your way out. Thank you again for taking the time to read this nonsense of mine.


	4. Violin

**Violin**

 

* * *

 

"Hand me over my violin and let us try to forget for half an hour the miserable weather and the still more miserable ways of our fellowmen.”   
― Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

 

Mycroft came home to the sound of a cat being tortured. Mommy sat in the kitchen waiting fro the oven bell to ring. She gave no explanation but order him to wash up and get ready for supper. The annoying sound follows until almost an hour, he hears the tutor giving instruction to Sherlock on posture and how to read, talking to Mommy about how Sherlock apparently has great attributes for playing the violin. Mycroft focus his attention on Sherlock then who's decided that the bow is good enough for a pirate sword.  
Pirates, all because daddy had insisted on going to see that Peter Pan play, over the summer, since then Mycroft had to coexist with his own pirate brother running around the house playing pretend with his dog. He is too busy trying to assets how long would this face last, to notice Sherlock sitting beside him.  
“Would you like to play the violin, My?”- He turns to look at Sherlock ready to fire a sarcastic comment about the damn thing but the thought is silenced by the look of his brother holding the damn thing.- “Mommy said you know how to play it.”  
“Do you really like it?”- Sherlock nods.- “You are good at it, why do you pretend not to be?”- He gets a smirk for answer, mommy is talking to the tutor who seem rather clueless about the situation.  
“I don't like him, am trying to see how long will he last. Plus he doesn't even like his job.”-Mycroft raises an eyebrow in question.- “The case fro the violin has wear out because he leaves it on the floor.”- Mommy comes hasting them to get ready for dinner.  
After dinner Mycroft hides in the small room Father calls library, is not big enough but it is comfortable with a big window to the back garden, Father is a big collector of rare books, they are different themes, sizes, if a books looks good enough Father would get it, some of them are old and battered, and curiously those are the ones Mycroft loves the most. they have the footprints of the past owners on their pages and the guard the smell of time. He finish his homework fast and goes on to the latest books he has set his eyes on. Sherlock enters, not saying a word they have their own understanding, if Mycroft does not utter a word within the first five seconds or acknowledges him, he doesn't bother him. From the top of his book he watches, Sherlock looking trough the book catching, usually he would go for a short one but this time he is not sure what to read.  
“Are you sure about that one, is rather long and we know your patience is not that good.”- Sherlock is holding a brown book with black lettering.  
“What is it about?”-Sherlock looks at the book, his french is good for reading his pronunciation not all out there yet.  
“Is about a captain of a submarine.”-His little brother looks at him interested, finds a corner and starts reading, mother pops her head in and tells them not stay up to late, he could hear his parents in their living room talking. After few hours Sherlock is a sleep, the book open on his lap, he goes and tells Father who carries Sherlock to his bedroom.

The rain had started to fall heavy in the middle of the afternoon, the thunder had followed shortly, Mycroft puts the books down, reaching his night table he turns off the light. There is a soft knock at the door, the door creaks as it opens revealing a small frame waiting for permission.  
“There is thunder, can I sleep with you.”Says Sherlock still unsure of getting in.  
“I believe we have been trough this, is just a storm and nothing else.” Yet he lets him climb in to his bed.  
…  
Morning wakes him up, and as his father always said mornings are always beautiful after a storm. He wonders were his little brother spend the night, was it raining there too. Was he afraid. Sherlock hasn't checked in the last weeks. Mycroft is willing to wait but only a few more days and then he is digging him up where ever he is. Who cares about the net, or Sherlock's mission, he wants his brother home. He has a promise to keep with his mother. Time is running out, he thinks while he stares at the violin sitting on his desk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always thanks

**Author's Note:**

> Please enjoy your stay, and happily indulge yourself with some Turkish delight on your way out. Thank you again for taking the time to read this nonsense of mine.


End file.
